


Unlikely Valentine's Unlikely Friend

by NaughtyBees



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Macro/Micro, OC, basically nick is helpful as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 02:42:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7081678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtyBees/pseuds/NaughtyBees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Nick is given a seemingly easy case, it turns out that things are not what they appear. He finds out there is evidence for his philosophy that even the smallest lives matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unlikely Valentine's Unlikely Friend

Dawn in the Commonwealth was usually unsettling. The peach coloured light filtering through the branches of scorched trees was out of place in the brown, dead wasteland. Every rustle in the undergrowth, every twig snapping, every pop of metal could be a death sentence. It was enough to make the most hardened brotherhood soldier uneasy. However, there was one man who knew how to survive here. He was a child of the wasteland, just as broken, just as hardened, with true worth hidden within. He had been doing this for a century, walking the charred bones of the Earth. It never diminished his hope though. He knew that every bad situation had something good in it. You just had to look hard. 

Valentine’s Detective Agency had been given a case from a man who had recently moved to Diamond City. This man, one Fredrick Rogers, was regarded as being crazy by most he knew. Valentine had seen him a few times before the move and was close enough to him that he called him Fred. He had noticed the man’s evident paranoia, his facial twitches and the way he always looked over his shoulder. He thought nothing of it until his client came at three in the morning, sweating despite the cold. Nick had been told that Fred couldn't go back to his old house to get his possessions. The poor man jabbered relentlessly about the creatures in the walls. The scratching he heard so often that it was in his head and wouldn't leave. He wanted Nick to kill it. He didn't care how, shoot it, set the place on fire, anything. 

That's why Nick was on his way East. He honestly thought the entire thing was either the ravings of a madman or a radroach infestation. Regardless, he would get Fred’s possessions and have a look around the house for clues as to what this scratching was all about.  
The house in question was pretty sturdy. The windows were boarded up, paint peeling and the door was chained. Producing a key from his pocket, he unlocked the padlock, casting the chain aside. The house was still, dark and dusty, as if it was barely lived in. Nick walked inside, his footsteps the only sound. He scanned the area for threats, not seeing anything to worry about. Guard still up, he went to find these possessions. He walked into the kitchen, finding an open suitcase on the table. He raised an eyebrow as he noticed the ripped open food packets, crumbs everywhere, strings hanging off the table, attached to zips. He slowly crouched, inspecting the thread that was looped through. It looked like a pulley system. The end that was on the floor was covered in crumbs and chocolate. It seemed that something had sliced, not chewed, a box of fancy lads open. Then used string to lower it to the floor and taken it away. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, standing up and walking around the table, looking for something else to add to this confusing picture. 

He froze when he heard it. Scratch, scratch, scratch… He amplified his auditory sensor array, hearing the tiny scratching that now sounded a lot closer than it was. His eyes widened when he heard a very faint, very hushed but recognisably annoyed voice. He could only just make out that it was a woman’s voice but as he maximised his aural range, he could make out words.  
“...goddamn came back, Jesus Christ. You'd think he'd get the message but no. Gotta come back for your fucking clothes.” Valentine very slowly walked over to where the sound was coming from, pausing a few feet from a wall. He kept listening to the voice behind the scratching. “Just leave me to eat your food in peace, you creep.” 

Nick shifted his weight to his left leg - the one that hadn't had the servo disconnected by a deathclaw swipe a few months back - and took a unneeded breath to steady himself. He knew that everything had a logical explanation. He just had to find it.  
“I don't know who you are, but I'm not Fred. I just came for his things.” As soon as he began to speak, the scratching stopped. “Why are you hiding? And why are you making that noise? It's driven poor Fred damn near mad.”

Nick heard only one word in reply. “Molerats.” He was about to open his mouth in questioning when an awful noise made him cry out in pain. He wasn't expecting a noise so loud and his auditory sensors shut down to prevent damage. Now temporarily deaf, he more or less ran backwards, pressing his back against the wall and pulling out his pipe pistol. He looked frantically around and counted. Five molerats. He cursed under his breath and started firing. After the first two went down, the others opened their mouths with inaudible shrieks and tried to attack. Nick sent the nearest one flying with a well placed kick, turning his attention to the final two. He stomped the first to run at him, killing it with his other foot, driving his heel into its skull. The last one, the smallest, turned tail and ran, digging into the earth once it was out of the door. 

Relieved, Nick turned on his aural array, expecting silence once again. However, he was shocked when he heard the same voice as before, louder and a lot angrier this time.  
“-before you showed up! I can't believe it!” Nick looked around for the source, seeing that when he'd kicked the molerat, it had hit the wall, cracking it open. Among the debris and plaster was what looked like, at a glance, a doll. He slowly walked closer, cautious. He holstered his gun, looking at the doll. It clutched its leg, seemingly having hurt it after falling out of the wall. It was barely four inches tall, clad in a miniscule vault suit with crudely made armour strapped on. Nick marvelled at how the creature had the most ginger hair he'd ever seen, clashing with pale, scarred, freckled skin. 

The tiny woman looked up, annoyance in her blue eyes melting into shock as she tried to scramble backwards. “What the fuck are you?!” Her back hit the wall, her chest heaving with panicked breaths. “Leave me alone!”

Nick, used to this reaction, simply smiled kindly. “The name’s Nick Valentine. I'm a private detective.” He tipped his hat in a means of a greeting. “The previous owner of this house asked me to fetch his belongings.” He slowly knelt down, pushing the dead molerat away. “Is your leg okay? I think there's a first aid kit somewhere…”

The woman scowled at him, holding her leg almost protectively. “You… you just keep away from me. I don't need your help.” She tried to stand, crying out when she put weight on her leg. She bit her lip, frowning and leaning against the wall, trying to limp away but she shrieked in agony, falling backwards. Nick’s hand shot out, catching her on his rubbery fingers. She glared at him, trying to stand back up, falling a second time. “I can cope by myself!” She shouted at him. “I'm not helpless!”

Valentine wrapped his fingers around her before she could attempt to walk again and, despite her protests, lifted her up. It was surreal, holding a (presumably) human life in one's hand. Nick thought that this was what Liberty Prime must feel like. “Now, listen to me.” He said, standing and carrying the still thrashing woman to the table. “I'm not gonna hurt you. I just want to help.” He assured her, trying to calm her wriggling.

“That's what they all say!” She spat at him. “The last time someone ‘helped’ me, I ended up with slavers.” She managed to push his fingers away, dropping the half inch onto the table with a thump. She rolled up her vault suit pant leg, looking at her injury. “Oh, fuck…”

Nick nodded, sighing softly. “That's broken, alright…” He frowned, starting to look through the suitcase. He found a first aid kit. “Now, you're too small for stims… don't wanna stick a needle like that in you… so we'll just have to bandage it.”

“We?!” The woman scoffed. “You keep your dirty, plastic paws off me, you hear?!” 

Valentine smiled. “Alright. Here.” He put the bandage beside her and sat back on the chair. “You bandage. I'll run a diagnostic to see if those damned rats did any damage.” He leant his head back, numbers and messages whizzing in and out of his peripheral vision, telling him how much of him was damaged. Nothing seemed to be out of place but he did another two just to be safe. Once he'd finished, he sat back upright, adjusting his hat. He looked down to find the woman laid out, covered in bandage, clearly struggling. “Hm. So did yo--”

“Don't say a fucking word, robot. Just get this over with.” Nick smiled at her words, glad she was allowing him to help. He cut the bandage to length, inspecting the injury once he had everything he needed. He got to work, attaching a splint and gently winding the bandage around, making sure it was secure before he put tape on it. He smiled and moved to sit back, only to stop as a tiny hand grabbed his metal index finger. He watched as the woman inspected him, letting her come to grips with what he was. After around a minute, she looked at him.  
“What are you?” She asked again, looking into his eyes. Not many people had the nerve to do that. 

Nick smiled as he stood up, putting everything back into the suitcase. “Let's play a little game. I'll answer your questions if you answer mine.” He waited for her to nod before answering her. “I'm a synth. A prototype. Made to see if they could put a personality on a robot. Everything I am is from some pre-war cop.” He shrugged, adjusting his coat. “My turn. Do you want to come with me? I can keep you safe until your leg heals then find you somewhere to live where you won't be disturbed.”

“Uh… I… I guess.” She muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. “Get my stuff from the wall. There should be a few bags of clothes, a spear and a wedding ring.” She slowly stood, leaning on the tea pot in the middle of the table. “Where do you live?”

Nick walked to the wall, carefully pulling things out. “Diamond City.” He answered as he put the possessions in his least frayed pocket. He noticed how said wedding ring was human sized and decided to ask about it later. “It's an okay place. The people are a little hostile towards other synths and ghouls but I'm allowed to live there because I've helped them a lot…” He made sure he had everything before walking back to the table, placing a hand flat for the woman. “Tell me about yourself.” He said as she lowered herself onto his rubbery palm. 

“My name is Natalia.” She said as he lifted her to his shirt pocket, slipping her inside. She settled herself against his chest, the feeling of her moving on his skin strange and foreign. “I'm from a vault. They were doing some sick experiments with a drug that somehow shrank people. Something to do with a solution to overcrowding. It didn't work on a few people. My mother included. They were made to keep the others as test subjects.” She kept talking as Valentine gathered his things and walked outside, still listening to her. “Then she had me and tried to keep me a secret since I was one of the shrinkies. Didn't work out since a virus broke out. Killed all the normal people since the drug’s effects made the shrinkies immune. Then, once we set up a decent society, we had a molerat infestation. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who got out.” 

Nick let out a low whistle. “Well, you've had a pretty rough life…” He touched his pocket gently, offering her some physical reassurance. “Just know, you're welcome with me for as long as you like.” 

“Thanks, Nick…” Natalia muttered, laying back in his pocket. “I'm… I'm sorry I insulted you. I'm used to people taking advantage of me.” 

“I've had worse.” Nick smiled, enjoying one of the rare moments that someone apologised for how they treat him. “You should get some sleep. Long journey.”

As Natalia fell asleep, Nick thought to himself. It was so amazing that she'd managed to find him of all people. One of the kindest people in the wasteland. And Valentine was pretty sure they'd become very good friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Natalia is from a vault between the Capital Wasteland and the Commonwealth. She's a pretty cool cat


End file.
